The Last Case
by AleTheHOUSEwife
Summary: COMPLETE! House messes up Cuddy's IVF samples and does something she might never forgive him. Until she becomes his latest, maybe last medical mystery. Angst ensues.
1. You're a plague

**The Last Case**

House/Cuddy, post season 3.

Drama, hurt/confort, suspense.

Medical mystery, old and new team.

A/N: set in the aftermath of Who's Your Daddy (2x23) and Cuddy's IVF arc. This won't be long: three, maybe four chapters and you'll see how it ends. All the characters belong to FOX and David Shore. I own my imagination and that is enough for me.

* * *

Wilson quietly knocked at the green, wooden door. Soft, low-toned sounds of shifted kitchenware came from the inside: someone was trying not to make noise, but didn't seem to succeed. A baby started crying. His tiny, crystalline voice told Wilson that he was a newborn. As if he didn't already know.

House opened the door. Behind him, the baby was flailing in a carrycot, which was weirdly placed on the piano seat. Wilson could see his little hands showing up above the edge of that temporary crib, which clearly didn't belong to the place.

Then, without a word being spoken, House invited him in. That was the first time in over a week.

_

* * *

She placed a hand on her abdomen and smiled to herself as a tiny fist pushed out from the inside, making the skin tenser. Then she turned serious again, thoughtfully rubbing her belly together with the secret inside it, recalling the day she had discovered what he had done._

* * *

–You _mindless_ son of... What were you thinking? What the _hell_ were you thinking? Tell me, because I can't _seriously _imagine...– Cuddy was yelling so loud, she had to reach the office door and close it before someone could hear anything. She lowered her voice, that now sounded like the harshest, most painful whisper ever. –How much time has passed, House? How many...– She hesitated, tears almost breaking her voice. –How many donor files I've been surfing through? _You_ were there. You... _don't get_ to interfere with other people's lives. –

House fixed his gaze into hers, silent. He hadn't even granted her a choice. He had _it_ done and then stepped aside until she had found out. If she'd ever hated him, that was the moment she realized it. Abruptly and suddenly. She felt the deepest rage relentlessly spilling and eventually let it out, regardless of any consequences. –You are a _plague, _House.–

His expression was hard to decipher. Encrypted like his whole damn self. She didn't even find the strength to try and understand it, as he was standing right in front of her, staring at her, silently shouting at her something she couldn't translate. Reasons she would not believe in.

She sat at her desk, fists clenched, totally upset.

He limped his way out, wearily.

_

* * *

It was snowing outside. Had been for three whole days. The warm nuanced nursery was a cozy place to sit in, sipping a cup of hot tea, indulging in fantasies about days to come. Cuddy laid down the cup. She'd been feeling nauseous for a couple of days, had some tea made to keep her stomach calm, though it didn't seem to be the best remedy for very pregnant women with very serious issues to face. She was feeling anxious, and she knew very well that it wasn't just for the child to come. It was his absence. She was missing him and she couldn't even start to believe that. But she did feel the lack of his presence around her._

_She tiredly stood up, leaving The Sign Of Four half opened on the armrest of a brand new rocking chair, and the empty teacup on the other. _

_She needed to hear his voice. She felt this sudden urge, eventually ready to settle for more than the mutual indifference of masked awkwardness. She felt ready for forgiveness, finally realizing the true meaning of that utterly misguided action of his. That was his screwed up way to tell her something he could not express in words. She'd had her time to hate him, to spill on him every drop of guilt. Nobody would forgive such a deed of... love. But she had to._

_She'd been avoiding the phone for months. As she was dialing his number she thought anything could do. Clinic hours to make up for, a new case, a patient suing for his uncommon approach to "saving lives". Anything. Any damn excuse to hear his voice and tell him something. Something useless to start from._

* * *

–You didn't do that.–  
–I guess I did.–  
–House, for the sake of...–  
–I didn't ask your opinion.–  
–You...you...– Wilson pointed his finger at House's chest, staring up at him from the table he was sitting at, filling patient paperwork in his office, which now felt overcrowded by the mere presence of House.  
–..._You_ rushed in my office as I was diagnosing my patient. That was earlier.–  
–Yes. Because I found out what _you_ did.–  
–Now, as my patient is dying, I might need some advice here.–

Wilson didn't fall for it. –Have you talked with her?–  
–Of course not. She's sedated.–  
–Don't deflect.–  
–I need an epiphany.–  
–No, you need to talk with Cuddy, who is downstairs. In her office.–  
–She's on drugs. Not Cuddy, my patient.–  
–House, go talk with her.–  
–I don't need a consult from her. She's the Dean, not even a real doc.–  
Wilson ignored the joke. –House. She's... pregnant.–  
House startled.

That was no more a game. Never had been.

_

* * *

Cuddy picked up the receiver and waited, all focused on getting through, as her heart seemed to be beating its way out of her chest._

_Then, House picked up._

_All he could hear from the other end was a soft, painful moan. Then it was silence again._


	2. Code Blue

Chapter 2

Code Blue

–Send him upstairs and call the mother, he's gonna need her.–

Cameron left the nurses to take care of her most recent code blue, a teenage boy with a fractured vertebra from a diving accident. He was going to need surgery and rehab: her job was done.

She slipped away, in serious need of a break from that hectic morning, which never seemed to be over. She cracked the restroom door open and looked inside: it was all dark and silent. She poured fresh water on her face and tried to gather her energies.

Then, her beeper went off.

–Code blue!–

_Again_.

Cameron dashed out of the room and reached the ambulance, meanwhile trying to wear clean, new ER scrubs. She took the patient's pulse as rushing inside.

–Woman, early forties, 27 weeks pregnant from IVF, severe distress from dehydration caused by nausea and stomach pain.– The EMT left and a couple of nurses came to help Cameron laying the new patient on a bed. She was jaundiced.

–Give her IV fluids and test her hepatic enzymes. Tell the lab I want to see the blood panel a.s.a.p.–

Cameron started pushing gently on the woman's abdomen, feeling the baby inside moving. –Your baby is fine, you're gonna be ok...–

That was the moment she really looked her new, terrified patient in the eye. She startled.

* * *

–Good morning! Cuddy-less Mondays are the sign of an exciting week to come. I'm going home.–

The team sat at the table, sheets spread out all over it.

–House...– Thirteen approached him, holding a patient file. –There's something you might want to have a look at.–

–Oh, I forgot.– House turned back. –You guys don't get to go. I do.– He sneaked his head through the half opened door and whispered in a conspiratorial way. –Clinic's full of sick peeps. _For realz_.–

–EMS brought her here a couple hours ago.– Ignoring the joke, Thirteen threw the file at House, who caught it by reflex.

–I don't ca...– He accidentally read the patient's name and turned serious. He stared blankly at the team.

–BP's 180/120, she's jaundiced. ER tested her hepatic enzymes, turned out that AST is over 70u/l and LDH is way elevated as well, more than 60u/l.– Taub tried to read quietly from the file, hoping his voice could somehow mitigate what he was saying.  
–Cameron's with her. They're still downstairs, she's to be re-hydrated, then they'll admit her. – Foreman was trying to decipher the expression on House's face, but it was almost impossible. The man stood still amidst the room, hands clenched on the file, with one new case and two patients.

* * *

–May I?–

–You're not really asking my permission to come in, are you?– Wilson seemed surprised and a bit amused as well.

–I have a patient.– House slammed the case file on his friend's desk. Wilson grabbed it and had a quick look. Then he stared at House in utter surprise.

–House. What's going on here?– Now he was definitely worried. –Where is she?–  
–Downstairs with saint Cameron, the queen of the Poor and the Dying.– That was meant to be a joke, but on House's face there weren't any signs of amusement. –She's dehydrated, her hepatic enzymes went all nuts on her, she's been throwing up for three days and despite being a doctor herself it was only this morning she realized she might need to tell someone... –

House took the file from Wilson. –...Which can only prove that she's not a real doctor. Oh, and she's pregnant. Very. Huge baby bump.–  
–As if I didn't already know that. You should talk to her. But wait, I've never told you this one. You'd better take notes.– Wilson's words came out even bitterer that he wanted.

–Yes, because "talking to her" will cure her liver. I know I'm the best of what's around, but _talking_ hasn't cured anyone yet.–  
–What do you think will happen? You two haven't talked to each other for months now. Maybe you should consider she needs an apology, before you cut her open on your table or something. You...–

–No, don't...– House tried to stop Wilson. As always, he didn't succeed.

–...You played havoc with her own life without even considering the consequences. You switched the donor samples because _you_ didn't find the guts to tell her when _she_ tried to ask you. And now she's expecting your child. If something happens to her, you will be responsible. How much blood you guys will shed before this comes to an end? Well done, House. You...– Before he could finish, House had already dashed out, slamming the door closed. –...you touched bottom.–


	3. Bleed no more

Chapter 3

Bleed no more

–Thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura.– Thirteen cast her vote, as House was irritatingly floundering around the lab, dangerously bouncing his red ball between the microscopes. –Now will you please sit down, for God's sake?–

He ignored her and disappeared out of the room.

–Cameron's already checked every inch of her skin for bruises or bleedings. Nothing came out.– Foreman didn't tell them Cameron had him seeing the patient first, to decide whether or not House's involvement was really necessary.–  
–If it's TTP we have to find what's causing it, and we haven't yet.– Taub checked the blood work again. –But for me it's HUS. It fits.–

–Hemolytic-uremic Syndrome? No.– Foreman surfed through the file sheets. –There is no sign of renal failure whatsoever.–

A few seconds of silence followed.

–What's the platelet count?– They turned back. House was standing right in the doorway: the ball was gone, his penetrating look stroke them as lightening. Foreman and Taub stood up and reached him at the threshold.  
–House, TTP is not likely.–

–Check the platelets.–  
–Foreman is right. Actually, HUS may explain...–

–I said. _Check the platelets_.–

They exchanged a glance, then dashed out.

* * *

The Witherspoon wing had never been so desolated. House plopped down on the nearest elbow chair, palms on his forehead, trying to clear his mind. The place reminded him of all the little games it had witnessed for years: the back-and-forth on a permission he would obtain anyway, him making fun of her clothes, hairdo, dates... his cane tapping rhythmically on the floor when he was following her all around the hospital, just to make her angry all the way, instead of consenting to life-saving, dangerous procedures. His tentatives to get a sign from her. To matter, somehow.

TTP was an autoimmune disease, typical in children or elderly patients. That would be an anomalous case. At Cuddy's age, if TTP hadn't already showed up, only traumas could trigger it. In a moment of clearness, House realized what he had put her through _was_ traumatizing. And that was his fault. He felt as if a pound was dropped on him and placed itself where his stomach had been till few seconds earlier.

It had started as a challenge: she had come to his office after the shots and he _knew_ she was going to ask him to be a donor. Then, she hadn't. He'd never really thought things could get this bad with her: all the yelling and the door slamming as she had discovered they had given her his own semen. Her getting pregnant after a hundred failed attempts, right after his stupid game and _from_ it. He didn't really think she could succeed, and when she finally had her pregnancy test turning out positive, it had been as if she'd never thought to ask him anything, or even to get pregnant whatsoever. All of it turned out as it was his fault.

He had thought he was still right, that he couldn't imagine any of that happening. At least, he had himself convinced of that. Now that her very life was in his hands, though, House realized that it was all his fault indeed.

He _had_ to save her. Not that it could compensate what he had done to her, or anything. But that was the only thing he could fix. And then he had to pay her the tribute of disappearing from her life forever. That was the least he could do to help her erasing his mere memory from her mind, so maybe she could live a happy life ever after.

The team found him there, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

–Class 1 platelet deficiency. Count's 48000/mm3.– Thirteen handed him the results. –It's TTP. She's gonna ooze blood out of every orifice if we don't stop it immediately.–

House didn't even look at the sheet. –Give her cortisone. If it doesn't work, switch to high-dose IV immunoglobulins.– He grabbed the cane and walked away.

* * *

–Cortisone could affect...–

–The baby's development. I know.– Cuddy was trying to be as objective as she could, masking the utmost terror that had seized her hours before and seemed now unlikely to dissipate. –I'm 27 weeks pregnant, it's almost seven months. We can give my baby steroids to help the lungs...– She quit talking and looked away to hide her tears from Cameron. She swallowed and took a deep breath, running her fingers over the wet skin at the corners of her eyes. Then looked back at her colleague.

–I'm sorry.– Cameron took Cuddy's hand.

–I know.–  
–If this doesn't work, they'll try with a high-dose immunoglobulin therapy. House and the team are doing their best and you'll be fine. Your baby will be fine.–

–I know.–

She knew. How couldn't she? Cameron's beeper went off and she left, headed to the ER once again.

Cuddy leaned back on the pillows, listening to the sounds of her hospital. She was in the best hands possible. House's hands. The only thing was... He had never showed up, as if she was just another patient. He hadn't even taken a walk across the corridor where her room was, so she could at least see him through the glass wall. He was avoiding her, because she had told him he was a plague, a poison to her. She probably had him convinced, since the last words they had exchanged had been spoken six months earlier. She meant what she had said back then. Really. What he had done was so out of the line, even for him: she had hated every inch of him, every bit of DNA he had passed to their child. She had been secretly hoping to lose the baby, so they wouldn't have anything to share anymore, apart from the silence mutually established between them, which was actually the best way to pretend that nothing ever happened.

Except that one day she had felt a weird sensation underneath her satin shirt. And her baby had magically become real to her, as she had placed a hand on her slightly swollen abdomen and felt the delicate bubbling of some secret scene playing inside. From that moment on, she had been on their child's side. And now that she could lose it, she hated both herself and House for all the unspoken words and the misguided deeds that had brought her there and him wherever he was, far from where he should have been.

Cuddy closed her eyes, hoping to reopen them and see him in the doorway, or hear his unbalanced pace approaching. But nothing happened. Then, she felt a sudden, excruciating pain in the lower part of her back and startled. Leaping up in pain, she found the catheter and reached out her hand for the bag. It was completely empty.

She thought she knew what was going on, and that was _so_ wrong. Then she passed out.

_A/N: thanks everyone for the great feedback on this story. I've been having a lot of story alerts and quite a bunch of nice reviews since the first upload. I'm hoping you guys like how it goes and where it leads House and the people around him. _


	4. A better training

Chapter 4

A better training

* * *

House's living room was fully immersed in the dark shade of the night descending over Princeton. Some street lamp flickering from outside briefly cast an amber reflection through a glass full of scotch and onto the wall, then went out. House kept playing in the complete darkness of the room, the liquor pulsating in the glass as the strings were trembling, hidden inside the wooden machinery of the piano. Then, the phone rang, interrupting the music on the tierce of a C minor arpeggio.

House picked up and spoke, without even asking who it was.

"Immunoglobulins. Go."

"House, it's Taub. Listen..."  
"Is it too late? What a shame. Tell Chase she needs a splenectomy."

"House, we can't."

"Why? Go find Chase, he'd better show up before you catch him in the on-call room with Cameron. Or is it that you don't want to tell Cuddy she has to take antibiotics for the rest of her life? Either way, you do what I say. Find him."

"House, it's not what we thought."

House didn't even hang up the phone. He took off on his motorbike.

* * *

Taub was so sure that TTP couldn't explain Cuddy's symptoms as well as HUS did.

"It's HUS."

Thirteen crossed the doorway and sat at the table.

"The latest blood panel just confirmed she's in acute distress: her renal functionality is completely lost by now."

Foreman attentively checked the new results, trying to get some sense out of them.

"She should present a VTEC infection as well. And she doesn't. Unless we detect a verocytotoxin circulating in her system now, that she's in the acute phase."

Taub jumped to his feet.

"We need an SAT for Escherichia Coli O157... I'm going."

He was already pushing the door handle, when Thirteen blocked him.

"We don't have enough time to perform a Salt Aggregation Test. We'd better search her house and find what's causing the infection. If we don't, it means that HUS is not from a verocytotoxin. And we'll have wasted one hour tops."

Foreman stood up and he quickly glanced at Thirteen.

"You're right. We should start her on IV fluids while you guys do the search. The low platelet count could be caused by the toxin."

Then, House rushed in.

"We're not sure."

He was actually panting, one hand clenched on his right thigh, the other rubbing it. He slammed his helmet and leather jacket on the table, hitting it with all the noise he could make. The team startled and they all turned back, then Thirteen approached him.

"House, you always do this. We're never sure."

"We need the test."

Foreman was already at the threshold, waiting for a sign to dash out and start Cuddy on IV fluids.

"An SAT will take hours. Her kidneys are already failing: if we waste another day, she's gonna be on dialysis for the rest of her life."

"_We need the test_."

They didn't find the courage to reply: House's stare flowing straight through theirs was almost painful and instantly sent chills down their spines.

* * *

Thirteen took the key from a dusty flower box, while Taub was trying to make himself as invisible as he could. He'd never liked breaking into his patients' homes on behalf of House, who was never there, for the life of him. They broke in. Nobody seemed to notice. Taub started to breathe again, then he addressed his colleague.

"House hasn't talked to her yet."

Thirteen opened the first cupboard she came across and started surfing through Cuddy's stuff.

"What should he tell her? God only knows what happened between them."

"And she's gonna have his child."

She turned back at him in surprise.

"How do you know? _For sure_, I mean."

"I don't know _for sure_. But the timelines _do_ match. It's been about six months since I last saw them in the same room, and she's seven months pregnant."

"If so, he'll never talk to her again."

"Because they won't have the time, if she keeps worsening like this."

"No... I meant: if he's done something worth not talking to her even now that she's..._dying_... well, I guess this time it's really over between them."

"It's gonna be over for _her_, if we don't find anything."

* * *

Wilson gently knocked at the glass door, then cracked it open and came in.  
"Since when you started performing time-wasting tests instead of live-saving emergency procedures?"

"Since... How long ago did I kill your girlfriend?"

"That wasn't you. Not in the end."

"Well, I kind of... learned something about being cautious."

"House, you have two patients here. In the room next door there's a woman you care about, who is carrying your child."

"In the room next door there's a 40 years-old pregnant woman with Hemolytic-uremic Syndrome. And that's all."

"You're such an ass. I mean, _really_, House."

Wilson tried to concentrate all the disgust that could fit in his penetrating stare, conveying it all on House, who wasn't even looking at him, since he had deliberately chosen to fix his gaze outside the window. He turned and grabbed the door handle, then went out, slamming the door closed. Less than ten seconds later, he was back: he pointed his finger at House.

"_You_ are trying to save them both."

"I am trying to cure the mother. What comes alongside that is none of my business."

"How long are you waiting to tell her she has to deliver the baby? If she were just another patient, you would have forced her to have a c-section right when she came in from the ER. You wouldn't admit that you want to see a child of yours in this world. _Ever_. Would you? And you would never admit you need her as much. If you keep denying this, you'll have them both killed in no time. You need a better training to be a good person, House."

"I need a better training to find the diagnosis before she dies."

House threw the marker away. The white board was empty, as his mind was. Then, Thirteen and Taub came in, shortly followed by Foreman, who seemed to be in a rush.

"We didn't find anything."

"...And she has a partial placental abruption, which caused disseminated intravascular coagulation."

* * *

_A/N: ok, so this time things are getting really bad. Next chapter is going to be the last, so make sure you don't miss it. I'd like to thank Melraemorgan very much for her technical advice on formatting and all related, and I hope she likes the outcome :) Sooner or later I'll change all the chapters to this format, I just need to find some time._


	5. Closure

Chapter 5

Closure

* * *

"Cuddy."

It was three o'clock sharp. She tried to focus on the source of the sound and opened her eyes.

House was there.

He slowly approached, his limp worse than ever. When a sudden twinge seized him, he grabbed the headboard of her bed and squeezed it until he could breathe again. He stood back up in denial, awkwardly pulling his hand away, as if the piece of furniture had it burned. She didn't say anything, incapable of collecting any meaningful words. She knew she was going to lose her baby, and she was heartbroken by the fact that all of that could have been different if House's screwed up way to connect hadn't resulted in a total failure. She seemed to realize _how much_ of it all had gotten out of his hand: his exhausted expression told her he was overwhelmed by the conscience of his guilt. He'd have never switched the donor files without an ulterior motive. And that ulterior motive was so clear now: what he was trying to tell her had been obscured by the unpredictable outcome of her pregnancy. Back then, she had tried to ask him openly if he wanted to be a donor, but she hadn't found the courage of embarking in such a mission with him. She had postponed, thinking that the message hadn't gotten to him. But it had, indeed. He had done it his way.

He was the father.

House was silently trying to decrypt her thoughts, observing her expression change as they were flowing through her mind. He felt so _inadequate_. To anything. Life, being a good person, caring. _Whatever_. All he did always turned out so wrong.

"Cuddy, you need to have the baby."

"I know. I have placental abruption, I'm losing it. Am I?"

"Yes. You're..." House hesitated, as another sting in his thigh took his breath away. _Dying._

He didn't even finish the sentence. He turned to the window, incapable of sustaining her look.

Cuddy watched him leaning on the sill, grabbing it with both hands clenched. That was House: he _couldn't_ be afraid.

Not that _she_ wasn't afraid of dying. She desperately wanted to survive, but beside that she wanted their child to live, and was what mattered for her more than anything else. She was now feeling an inexorable sense of regret for House being so distant: she had pushed him away and he had accepted that he was not going to be a part of her life anymore.

From his side of the room, House was desperately longing for forgiveness, but he knew he was not in the right position to ask for it, and most of all that was not the right time for a movie-like reunion. He had to get his job done, now more than ever. He pushed away the image of his unborn child and its dying mother.

"What's the differential?" She asked.

"We tried with TTP and then your kidneys shut down. We searched for any infections that could cause acute HUS, but we didn't find anything. Your platelet count is way below the limit and we still don't know what's causing the syndrome."

The exact moment House finished the sentence, Cuddy started coughing bloody, pinkish froth all over the blankets, grabbing her chest in desperate search for air.

* * *

House slammed the office door open and rushed in, making all his colleagues jump to their feet.

"Pulmonary edema and hepatic fracture. We're gonna deliver the baby and stop the bleeding immediately. Call Chase for the anesthesia and tell him we'll be in OR 3, he's scrubbing in with me. Foreman, go to the lab and re-test all the strains. Thirteen, Taub, you go search her place again for any infections. Now."

The team dashed out.

Wilson helped House into his scrubs and before he could go washing his hands, they exchanged a significant look. Neither of them spoke. Wilson thought he might hug him and tell him that all was going to be fine, but that wasn't House's kind of thing. He preferred to watch him as he limped his way to the OR, but when House closed the doors behind him, all Wilson could do was climbing up to the gallery and wait.

They had to extract the baby and repair the hepatic fracture practically at the same time. If he had pulled out the baby before Chase could stop the bleeding, there wouldn't be anything else to do for her. If they had waited too long for the liver to be restored, the upcoming fetal distress could have been fatal to the baby. It was all set, but nobody had the courage to enter the room before House. They were all standing outside the entrance, waiting for him. When he came, hands lifted to prevent any contaminations, the group of people parted to let him into the OR. He crossed the room without even looking at them.

Then, he came in.

Cuddy was lying on the table, still awake. He checked her O2 sats and saw they still had few minutes. He gently placed an oxygen mask upon her face, keeping it firmer with a hand on it. He would have been the one giving her the shot of anesthesia. Chase had left it all ready: House took the IV bag and hung it up on its hook, then connected it to the drip tube coming out from her left wrist. He bended over her, his voice coming out in the most gentle tone he could produce.

"Cuddy."

She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Their gazes met for the first time in months. House placed his free hand on her swollen belly and conveyed all of his hopes on what was inside, desperately longing to find life once he had his hands in there. Cuddy lifted her right hand and delicately placed it over House's. The touch of it made him shiver. She pulled the mask away.

"House."

He fixed his stare into hers, decided not to lose it, then spoke slowly.

"I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

"I know."

He felt as if some invisible pound was being finally lifted from his heart. He took a breath and the leg didn't kill him this time.

"Look, Cuddy, I..."

He couldn't finish, but this time words weren't needed.

"Yes. Me too."

An exhausted smile appeared on her face.

House flicked the IV switch and the meds started flowing through her veins. He watched her look getting fuzzy, but when he tried to help her wear the mask, she grabbed his hand and blocked it for a brief moment, causing him to startle.

"House..."

"What? What is it?"

"HELLP fits."

She closed her eyes. House called the others in.

The OR got full of busy people and beeping machinery. Chase quickly made the incision on Cuddy's abdomen, then left House to take care of the c-section while he shifted position to cut into the liver. House closed his eyes for a second, wishing the only woman he had ever dared to love in his whole life could give birth to a healthy baby. He found a couple of tiny feet and chills went down his spine. He pulled.

That was the moment when each and every piece of machinery inside the OR started beeping uncontrollably, clashing deafeningly. Chase desperately stared down at the bleeding, which was now spreading everywhere.

"BP's dropping!"

House pushed Chase away and rushed to the spleen, squeezing it as hard as his strength let him, to try and produce a stream of platelets. Blood started spilling on his scrubs, hands, mask. He tried to fight his life out against the blood that was taking it all, leaving him alone, facing the inexorability of death. Again. As always. Everybody stepped out and started leaving the room, as House watched his boss, his best friend, his love of twenty years slip away. He quit the spleen and stood there in disbelief. Then he turned off each and every damn beeping monitor and pulled the mask away from her face, watching the mother of his child sleeping her way into the dark. _It's over._

He was alone again. He sat on a stool, his eyes filling with tears, finding it hard to swallow them. Then, someone cracked the door open. House slowly turned back, and saw Cameron approaching him, holding a bundle of blankets.

"It's a boy."

House wearily stood up, sustaining his bad leg, then limped his way to Cameron. She smiled at him.

"It's a miracle, House. He's breathing on his own and he's very healthy, actually. He weighs even more than we would expect, given that he's a preemie. We're hoping to discharge him in a week, maybe less. Then..." She hesitated, avoiding his look. "House, we need to know..."

He took the baby from her.

"There's no such thing as miracles. _And_. He's my son. I'm not going anywhere."

Cameron nodded, then left him alone.

House had a look at the tiny, delicate human being who was sleeping his way into life in his own arms, and felt a little better. Maybe he was not _so_ alone. The baby opened his eyes and they were the same color as his mother's.

* * *

**Epilogue**.

House let Wilson in. Then, he took the baby in his arms and moved the carrycot to the floor. Holding his son, he sat at the piano and started playing softly with his free hand. Wilson gently closed the door and sat down on the couch, watching the two of them until the boy fell asleep. Then, House made some tea and they waited together for a new dawn to come.

* * *

_A/N: so, we've come to the end of this. I hope you guys enjoyed the journey and don't hate me for the destiny I assigned to Cuddy, who, by the way, was the one having her own epiphany, here._

_What is HELLP, you might ask. And you'd be right. I didn't want to steal room to the drama, and every character involved knew what the disease was, so there was no need to indulge in explanations that would have ruined the final scene. That's why I'm telling you now: HELLP is an obstetric complication of the better known "pre-eclampsia", which is typical of the late stages of pregnancy, or early childbirth aftermath. Either way, HELLP is a life-threatening condition, which presents with Hemolitic anemia, Elevated Liver enzymes and Low Platelet count, hence the name. _

_It's frequent to misdiagnose patients who come in an ER presenting generic symptoms (nausea/vomiting/blurred vision...), without any other sign that can indicate risk factors for eclampsia (like arterial hypertension): this was Cuddy's case. HELLP's an extremely rare condition, presenting in 0.2 to 0.6% of all pregnancies, and that's why it qualifies perfectly for being a House medical mystery. In 20% cases, the condition leads to DIC, which, in Cuddy's case, came along with liver rupture. The two sources of internal bleeding made emergency surgery extremely challenging for the doctors, given that the patient was already affected by platelet deficiency, and as you all know platelets are needed for blood coagulation. The liver is where it all happened. Kidney failure presented as a complication. The other two options, TTP and HUS from a bacterial infection, were possible differential diagnoses for HELLP, at least until Cuddy's lungs collapsed and DIC intervened. She eventually died for the internal bleeding caused by the liver rupture and the DIC, as the only treatment to this condition is to deliver the baby in time. House couldn't think clearly to all of this, because he was personally involved, but the condition was really rare and this played the most part in what happened. So it's not his fault :)_

_Also... I was going to name the baby, but couldn't find anything that was cool but not cheesy or sappy ("James" after Wilson made me smile, but this isn't a House -the show- kind of thing, so I left it alone). Any suggestions?_

_Ok, that's all. Thanks again to all of you. I'm going to finish translating my other story "The Butterfly Effect" and in the next months upload all of my other works. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think! Bye._

_alessandra_


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